The A Team
by RedvineWarbler
Summary: Kurt and Blaine never met in high school. Without the support of Blaine, Kurt lost himself to peer pressure and got in with a 'bad crowd'. But what will happen when they meet years later? Kurt is in a bad position, working the streets and Blaine wants to help him. Kurt is a prostitute and Blaine is a psychiatrist. Contains drug use, physical abuse and rape. Angst, Drama, Romance
1. White lips

_The A Team_

_Chapter 1_

Kurt clutched the notes weakly in his shaking left hand. "Just drop me where you found me." The driver grunted and steered over to the side of the street. Kurt glanced at his reflection in the rear view mirror before exiting the tacky car which screeched as it took off into the distance. The image of his reflection stayed in his mind as he stared into space. His cheeks were sunken in, his eyes were dark, his hair was greasy and he was pale like a ghost. No longer like a porcelain doll. He looked down at his still shaking hands and the money in them. This money could stop his hands from shaking. Where was Jack? This was when they were going to meet. A cough from behind him caused him to spin around, his eyes searching in the dark alley beyond him. He stepped forward. "Jack?" Another step. "Is that you?"

"I told you never to say my name." Came the reply. Kurt rushed into the darkness and steadied himself against the brick wall, his head hurting. "Here." His voice matched his hand as he held out the money to Jack. Kurt couldn't see anything but felt the notes being roughly taken out of his left hand, and a small plastic bag replacing the money. "Now get out of here." Kurt felt himself being pushed and he stumbled backwards, back out into the dull light supplied by the flickering street lamp. He began the three block walk back to his apartment when a car pulled up beside him and the driver sounded the horn twice. He looked through the dark window for a moment, considering, before his hands started to shake more erratically and he turned and continued to walk.

* * *

The driver sighed and turned back around. He would have to try again tomorrow night.

* * *

Kurt lay down on his bed. Though it could barely be called that.

His pillow case was ripped, the pillow held very little Dacron in it and his sheets were torn.

_It had been a terribly cold night. Kurt assumed that everyone was inside, warm with their families. Happy. _Oh Kurt, stop being so pathetic. _Kurt shifted his hands around in the pocket of his hoodie. If no one picked him up soon, he wouldn't be able to get his fix. He needed his fix. _

_Hours went by._

_Finally he heard the familiar cough coming from the alley behind him. He stepped cautiously into the shadows. "I-I'm sorry, I don't have it. But please, I'll pay you double next time, I swear, p-please just. I need it, p-please." _

"_You already owe me from last time." Came the harsh reply._

_Tears began to stream down Kurt's face as he dropped to his knees. "Please, I-I'll do anything, a-anything." _

"_Call me when you have it."_

_The heavy footsteps faded away from Kurt, where he was still on the ground, his whole body shaking. He got up and ran to his apartment, barely shutting the door before he threw himself around his apartment, tearing the bedding off his bed and using all his strength to take out his anger on his sheets and pillow. He grabbed his microwave from the bench and threw it out of the window. He felt both satisfied and regretful when he heard it smash on the ground below._

Kurt's shaking hands stilled as he fell into a not-quite-so peaceful sleep.


	2. Pale face

_The A Team_

_Chapter 2_

The driver drove up to that shoulder by the alley way. He was late, and could only hope that Kurt was still out, and would be back soon. _What an absolute horrible thing to hope._ He thought to himself.

Turning off the ignition, the driver waited silently. He bit his lip and stared at his hazel eyes in the rear-view mirror. Suddenly blinding lights flashed in the mirror and he turned around to see a car screeching to a halt just behind him. His stomach grumbled. He had come straight from a late night at work and hadn't had time for dinner yet. _Maybe he could have some with me._ He considered.

The passenger door of the car behind him opened suddenly, and then abruptly closed again. The driver squinted, looking in the mirror, trying to work out what was going on. He heard yelling, but he couldn't make out any words. The door suddenly opened and slammed shut again. More yelling. A high pitched scream.

Whimpering.

The car behind him began to rock.

The driver sat paralyzed and wide eyed; realising what was happening. "No."

He knew he had to take action. Get out of his car and help. But he couldn't move. His hands were frozen on the steering wheel. But he had to do something.

Just as he forced himself to unbuckle his seatbelt, the car behind him stopped rocking. He held his breath and waited. _Only five more seconds. Five, four, three, two-_

The passenger door opened again and out stepped Kurt, looking more scruffy and worn out than usual. He didn't have time to close the door before the car behind him took off, careering down the road, the passenger door still open wide.

The driver turned his attention back to Kurt, who was sitting on the footpath, breathing heavily and gasping for air, tears streaming down his face.

His hands shaking.

_It's now or never, Blaine._

Blaine opened his door and stepped out of his car, closing and locking it behind him.

He took a deep breath and walked over to a sobbing Kurt on the ground, who was still unaware of his presence. He cleared his throat.

Kurt jumped and looked up, trying to swallow back his sobs.

"Wh-who are you? What do you want?" Kurt laughed, "Do I really even need to ask?"

Blaine crouched down to Kurt's level. "I'm Blaine. I'm not going to hurt you, Kurt."

"How do you know my name?" Kurt asked, startled. "Are you an angel? Am I dead?" He laughed bitterly, "Are you sending me to hell?"

Blaine frowned. "What? No. You're alive, but... you looked like you were having a rough time back there. Oh, god that came out wrong."

"How do you know who I am?" He repeated. "I never tell anyone my name."

Blaine frowned deeper. It was painful how open Kurt was about what he did, and it was clear that it wasn't something he had really wanted to do with his life.

"I wanna help you."

"Who _are_ you?"

"I'm Blaine Anderson. Okay? I've known who you were since 2010. Show choir sectionals."

Kurt finally looked Blaine in the eyes. Blaine could see that they were blood shot and wet with tears and... something else that he didn't really want to mention.

"What?"

"Look, would you just... come with me? I promise I won't hurt you and I don't want anything from you but your time."

Kurt looked between Blaine and the dark alley behind them. "I-I'm meant to be meeting someone, but I, I don't have..." Kurt fumbled with his pockets and looked back to Blaine, who was staring straight at him. Kurt blushed under his gaze. He looked back to the alley.

A man emerged from the darkness and shot a glare towards Kurt before stalking off into the night.

Kurt's hands began to shake and he whimpered.

"Well?" Blaine asked.

"O-okay. But only because I want to know how the hell you know who I am."

Blaine chuckled and helped Kurt to his feet.

Kurt suddenly buckled over and clutched at his stomach and winced twice, apparently at some other kind of pain.

_Oh._

Kurt began to moan. Blaine rushed to action and held Kurt, hugging him against his chest as Kurt whimpered.

Blaine sighed. "Come on, let's get you warm. He put his arm around Kurt's shoulders and walked him to his car.

* * *

Kurt sat still as Blaine reached over him to buckle his seatbelt. "Just try not to think about it." Blaine whispered. Kurt wasn't entirely sure what exactly he was referring to. The pain in his stomach, the pain caused by that previous event, the previous event itself or the shaking of his hands. Maybe a bit of everything.

Blaine closed Kurt's door and got in on the other side, silently starting the car.

Kurt closed his eyes, trying to relax. This was his situation. He had just serviced a man who had taken all his money from him, and proceeded to rape him inside his car.

Blaine's car smelled good.

He had dumped himself on the footpath in self loathing and pain.

Blaine came and spoke to him, Blaine, who apparently knows who he is.

But who is _he_?

Kurt opened his eyes and looked over to Blaine who had his eyes fixed on the road. He drove smoothly and carefully. He inhaled and exhaled steadily and flashed a smile at Kurt.

Kurt's heart sped up.

His hands started to shake.

What made Kurt want to trust this man? Perhaps his kindness? The fact that Kurt had just been through a traumatic experience that he hadn't yet quite come to terms with and he wasn't thinking straight? Or maybe the fact that when he held him, his hands didn't shake quite so much.

Even though he knew he wouldn't be taking anything tonight.

Blaine turned into a small neighbourhood and drove slowly until he came to a stop outside a small house. "Here we are." He smiled at Kurt who returned it bashfully. "I'll explain everything once we're settled inside."

* * *

Blaine got out of his car and moved around to the other side to help Kurt out. But he was already opening the door and stepping out onto the footpath. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were half closed. He started to collapse, but Blaine caught him, supporting his weight with little effort.

_Oh god, he's so thin._

Kurt began to cough, and tried to support his own weight, but with little success. "I'm sorry," he groaned, "I can – I can stand, I can-"

But he blacked out completely.

"No, okay, right." Blaine mumbled to himself, sweeping Kurt up in his arms while fumbling with his key ring, pressing one button on his device to lock his car, and another to unlock his house. Then another to open the door for him. He'd gotten all this programmed into one device for the days when he had to bring a lot of paper work home from work. But apparently it had proven handy for other things as well.

He carried Kurt into the living room and laid him down on the couch, touching his hair briefly before going to lock his door.

He found himself, however, standing outside on his porch, breathing in the cool night air and gathering his thoughts.

Kurt Hummel was actually in his house. Kurt, who he had finally made contact with after all these years of wondering who the person was behind that amazing voice at the Show Choir Sectionals 2010.

The person who he was sure he was in love with ever since he opened his mouth.

Remembering himself, he stepped back into his house and locked it behind him. He walked back into the living room where he found Kurt sitting on his couch and looking all around the room, eyes wide. He looked like he wanted to stand up and investigate when his eyes fell on something particularly fascinating. Blaine followed his line of vision. _Of course._ Blaine thought. _My Warbler photos._

"Any clues as to who I am yet?" Kurt looked at Blaine as he walked over and picked up the middle photo from his collection on his bookcase and sat down with Kurt, passing the frame to him.

"This is-" Kurt started.

"Refreshing?" Blaine supplied.

"Weird." Kurt corrected. "So I get how you know who I am, but, I've changed a lot since then, and – and how did you know where to find me?" Kurt put the photo frame down on the coffee table.

"Ever since you sang _I wanna hold your hand_, I've wanted to..." Blaine cautiously picked up one of Kurt's hands – which he noticed were shaking - in both of his. He looked into Kurt's eyes, which were full of wonder and confusion as the hand that Blaine was holding stopped shaking.

"Oh." Kurt pulled his hand away but didn't break eye contact. "You wanted me, so you decided to take advantage of my current occupation? Fine. What do you want?"

"What do I want, what?" Blaine asked, confused.

"Yeah, what do you want? I'll do anything, let you do anything to-"

"What? Kurt, n-no, that's not what I meant." Blaine stuttered, talking over Kurt.

"-me so long as you can pay up."

"No! Kurt, you've got this all wrong, I-"

"Seems to be a theme for me." Kurt sighed, looking away.

"I just – I wanted to know you, but then after all the competitions that we had together, I – I could never find you."

Kurt slowly looked back to Blaine, as if something was finally clicking inside his head.

"Are you hungry?"

"Oh, uh."

"I haven't had dinner yet. Late night at the office."

"Oh, I see." Kurt's stomach made a gurgling sound.

Blaine laughed. "Come on, have something."

"Oh, but I wouldn't want to impose."

Blaine just raised his eyebrow. "Seriously, it's no trouble. I put a pasta in the slow cooker this morning and I was expecting my brother to come around but then I had to work late and had to call it off. I have enough for you. So; I repeat, are you hungry?"

Kurt's stomach gurgled again. He smiled and looked down. "Yes, please."

Blaine patted Kurt's knee before standing up and wandering into the kitchen.

Kurt looked around the room some more, trying to work out more about Blaine until he came back with a delicious smelling pasta. "Mmm, smells good."

Blaine blushed and handed Kurt a bowl and a fork, before sitting down next to him again.

They ate in silence.

"C-can you sing something?" Kurt asked after he had finished his pasta and put it on the table. Blaine was only half way done, and he considered himself a fast eater.

Blaine furrowed his eyebrows and put his bowl on the table. "Um, okay, like what?"

"Just whatever you used to sing back in high school. Or something."

"Okay, uh..."

Kurt smiled, wondering.

"_You think I'm pretty without any makeup on, you think I'm funny when I tell the punch line wro_- Kurt?" Blaine stopped singing when Kurt jolted and abruptly threw up on the floor.

He started moaning and sobbing, clutching his stomach, threatening to hurl again.

Blaine quickly grabbed at Kurt, clutching his shoulder with one hand, and rubbing his back with the other. "Ssh, calm down, you're okay, you're fine." He moved the hand that was on Kurt's shoulder to his knee, massaging it, trying to make Kurt feel better.

Kurt breathed raggedly and sniffed a few times. He moaned, clutching at his head with one hand and his stomach with the other. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

And he threw up again.

Blaine closed his eyes, continuing to rub Kurt's back and his knee, wishing he could do something more than just sit.

Kurt let out a frustrated cry.

He began to hyperventilate.

"Breathe, Kurt, don't panic, just breathe through your nose."

Kurt obeyed.

"That's it, that's right, you're fine, just breathe."


	3. Breathing in

"I didn't realize my singing was that bad." Blaine said, chuckling a little as a confused Kurt glanced up at Blaine, his lips covered in his own vomit. "What?" He asked weakly, before buckling over again and dry heaving. Blaine pressed his lips together and reached around to rub Kurt's stomach in an attempt to ease the pain. Kurt began to breathe a little easier.

"My singing. You threw up as soon as you heard it." Blaine said, knowing he was being a little silly. He was trying to ease the atmosphere that had become so tense he felt as though he couldn't move from the couch. "When was the last time you ate a proper meal, Kurt?"

Kurt looked away, feeling ashamed. "When I went home for Thanksgiving."

Blaine contained his gasp. "Not even at Christmas time?" He asked, keeping his voice steady.

Kurt just shook his head. Blaine took a deep breath. "Alright, so obviously pasta is too much of a heavy food for you to handle right now."

It was February, just easing out of winter but the nights were still cold. Blaine hated to think about Kurt sitting alone on Christmas day, maybe opening a few presents from his family. Maybe not. Maybe he slept through the whole day. Blaine wasn't about to ask such personal questions.

"I know who you are." Kurt said suddenly, pulling Blaine from his thoughts. "When you started to sing I... remembered. You were the lead singer of the Warblers."

Blaine let a small grin grace itself on his face.

"Yeah. Yeah I was."

" Aren't you like, famous by now?" Kurt asked and Blaine's face fell.

"Oh, singing was really just more of a hobby for me. Nothing serious." Blaine said. He was lying, but he didn't need to get into that.

"So, what do you do?" Kurt asked, sitting up. He didn't look as if he was going to throw up any time soon.

"I'm a psychiatrist." Blaine frowned as Kurt's eyes widened.

"That's impressive, but I don't want you getting inside my head."

"What?"

Kurt turned away. "I don't need your charity, Blaine." He said, wiping the vomit from his mouth with his already dirty sleeve. He stood up. "And I don't need your sympathy." He headed for the door.

"What? Kurt, no that's not what I- well I mean I do want to help you but..." He rushed to Kurt just before he put his hand on the door. "Please, Kurt. Just stay here for the night I promise it's no trouble at all. And you're... you're _hurt_. I'm not letting you go back without being seen to."

"I was bullied my entire high school life, Blaine." Kurt said as he opened the door, the cold night chill making Blaine shiver, but Kurt didn't flinch. "I can handle it."

Blaine sighed, resigned. "At least... at least let me drive you back. It's freezing, and a long way away." Blaine bit his lip. As a psychiatrist, he knew that he couldn't force Kurt into anything he wasn't comfortable with. Thankfully, Kurt gave the slightest nod, and stood back, allowing Blaine to lead the way out.

* * *

The drive back was quiet, but Blaine's car was warm. A million things raced through Kurt's mind, but most of all, there was an unrelenting sense of self loathing. The only words exchanged were Kurt's exact address, and an "Alright." from Blaine. When they arrived, Kurt lingered in the car, just for a second. "You know, my offer still stands." Blaine said and Kurt looked to him and offered just a hint of a smile. "Thank you, but I'll be fine." He opened the car door and stepped out onto the pavement, shivering a little as the wind picked up. "Thanks for the dinner." And he closed the door and ran up to his apartment.

His tiny, cold and mostly empty apartment was nothing like Blaine's home. The little oil heater by the door rattled to life, heating up the space around it within about a two metre radius. Kurt sighed and walked over to his kitchen sink. He turned on the warm water tap, and let it run for a second _just in case_. He sighed when the water still came out freezing cold. He ducked his head down and scooped his hand up under the water and pressed it to his lips, washing away the lingering smell of his own vomit. He then picked up his toothbrush, and, with shaking hands ran it under the tap to wet it, before bringing it to his mouth and scrubbing all around it vigorously. Once he was as satisfied as he could be with it, he spat out a couple of bristles that had fallen from the brush's grasp.

His whole body began to shake. He quickly turned off the tap and hurried to his bed, pulling the thin blanket over the top of him. As he shook, from the cold and the _need_, he realized that tonight was going to be yet another sleepless one.


End file.
